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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24991915">Afternoon Secret</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lassarina/pseuds/Lassarina'>Lassarina</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Shibari</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:15:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,340</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24991915</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lassarina/pseuds/Lassarina</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's their little secret: that sometimes, when Pepper blocks an afternoon for deep work and tells everyone not to interrupt her, unassuming paper-pusher Natalie spends the first half hour building an elaborate cage of knots and ropes, stark black lines against Pepper's soft skin, so that while she works, every breath will move carefully placed knots against quivering nerves.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Pepper Potts/Natasha Romanov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Natasha Bingo</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Afternoon Secret</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Pepper is always beautiful, Natasha thinks, sleek and in control and perfectly put-together, the very picture of a Fortune 50 executive.  But she's <i>stunning</i> when she's mussed, panting, desperate for release and struggling to maintain that laser focus she brings to absolutely everything.</p><p>It's their little secret: that sometimes, when Pepper blocks an afternoon for deep work and tells everyone not to interrupt her, unassuming paper-pusher Natalie spends the first half hour building an elaborate cage of knots and ropes, stark black lines against Pepper's soft skin, so that while she works, every breath will move carefully placed knots against quivering nerves.  For this, Pepper's executive chair is moved aside, and a padded block placed for her to kneel; Natasha guides her to it, settles her, and Pepper starts working.  She doesn't bind Pepper's hands, exactly, but the carefully knotted ropes extend down to her wrists, with cords running through it so that her movements tug on strategic knots, subtly moving the whole.  Careful bindings lift Pepper's breasts, squeeze them just enough to heighten sensitivity; Natasha will use that, later.  She wraps rope around Pepper's ankles, and brings it up to join the rest, pinning Pepper in a fully upright position; she can move, but any movement tugs.</p><p>At last, Natasha stands behind her, still fully clothed, the heat already pumping off Pepper's bare skin, and reaches down, between her legs, one long slow caress, to draw the last rope back between Pepper's thighs.  She measures it with her fingers, ties the knot, tests to make sure it will nestle just right against Pepper's clit, and hears the tiny sound Pepper doesn't quite bury as she tries to focus on--Natasha glances over her shoulder.  Income projections.</p><p>She takes her time settling the rope, stroking and teasing until she can feel Pepper quivering, can see her hands clenched tight on the desk instead of typing.  Perfect.  She draws the rope through, loops it up and ties it just tight enough.  Pepper breathes out, slow and shaky.  Natasha stands close, slowly slides her hands around Pepper's torso, whisper-soft touches flitting over her breasts.</p><p>Pepper doesn't speak, but her breath catches.</p><p>Natasha could spend the entire afternoon here, touching, tasting, finding out just how much direct contact Pepper can take before she breaks--but that isn't the game, at least not today.  She drops her hands, becomes Natalie again, walks to the small side desk where she has a perfect view of Pepper kneeling naked in front of her computer, barely restrained despite all the layers of rope, and opens her laptop.</p><p>The only sounds are the clicking of keyboards and Pepper's breaths; with concentration, she forgets the rope and moves, dragging the knots against her clit and whimpering when it reminds her of her position.  Sometimes she wears nipple clamps, a swaying reminder when she fidgets, but not today.  Natasha looks up every time Pepper's breathing changes, and every twenty minutes, like clockwork, she walks over to check Pepper's hands, arms, legs, feet, for any sign of poor circulation.  The third time, she loosens the binding on Pepper's breasts, letting her draw deeper breaths--and tugs gently on her nipples until Pepper jerks upright, gasping when that moves the knots.  Natasha stands like that, teases her, until Pepper is writhing in the ropes, then drops her hands.</p><p>"Ms. Potts, we have work to do," she says, and though her voice is soft and meek, she feels it slam into Pepper.</p><p>Pepper gasps, braced on her hands, and she wants to come--wants it enough that her hips are still moving faintly.  Natasha rests one hand on her hip, soothing and warning at the same time.  Pepper closes her eyes, breathes in, breathes out.</p><p>She opens them and goes back to reading the financial report in front of her.  Natasha returns to her seat.  She wants, too; beneath the proper black pencil skirt she's wet and aching.  She forces herself to sit still, not to squirm or press her thighs together, though her underwear is already soaked through.  She watches the clock, her self-control fraying further with each passing minute, and counts down the last twenty minutes.  Pepper is leaning against her desk, flushed and straining and for just a moment, Natasha considers letting her have this--but that is not what she was asked to do, and so instead, as the clock changes, she speaks, and her voice is no longer meek.  "Ms. Potts," she says, "come here."</p><p>For a woman who walks effortlessly on skyscraper heels, Pepper is clumsy now, carefully sidling off her block and moaning hoarsely when that pulls the ropes tighter.  She shuffles slowly on her knees toward Natasha--she learned the first time that putting her hands down for support makes every movement worse.  Those gorgeous little whimpers keep catching in her throat as her movements pull the rope, sliding that knot back and forth across her clit.  By the time she makes it to Natasha's desk, she's panting.</p><p>Natasha lifts her hips enough to strip away the underwear, hike the skirt up, and reveal herself.  Pepper licks her lips and Natasha swears she can feel that tongue on her skin already.</p><p>She nods, and Pepper crawls closer, sinks down--not quite swallowing another moan--and leans in.</p><p>Her tongue is sweet, skilled, and she settles in with enthusiasm.  She knows she won't come until Natasha does, but for all the desperation Natasha can feel thrumming through her, she takes her time.  Natasha told her, the first time, what the rules would be: she decides how long Pepper must work in the ropes, and when she's ready, Pepper can come, but only after Natasha does.  She quickly learned that Pepper loves being held on the edge of orgasm, enough that she'll hold herself there.  So Natasha reaches forward as Pepper's tongue strokes her clit, grasps the ropes at Pepper's shoulders, and tugs, lacing her fingers into the ropes so that every unconscious flex of her hands will pull the rope between Pepper's legs.  She can feel as well as hear Pepper's moans, little vibrations when Pepper closes her lips on Natasha's clit and sucks gently.  Natasha lifts her hips into that mouth, lets her hands flex and tug, rewarding Pepper with carefully timed strokes.</p><p>She presses her thighs in closer against Pepper's shoulders, lets her calves press in against Pepper's legs, and feels the quiver in Pepper's thighs as she gets closer.  Pepper makes a frantic sound, her tongue working faster, as if she's afraid she won't be able to last.  Natasha relaxes her grip on the ropes, gives herself over to Pepper's tongue, Pepper's lips, and lets the tension coil tight.  When she's just at the edge, she grips the ropes again, pressing up into Pepper's mouth and letting the cry in her throat come out.  Pepper shudders, her tongue stroking frantically even as she squirms against the ropes, and Natasha lets herself go.</p><p>Pepper shudders, cries out with her head jerking backwards, and Natasha releases the ropes.  Once, she kept her grip on them, kept tormenting Pepper until she was begging not to come anymore, but not today.  Today, Natasha lets her rest, blond hair straggling and sticking to her flushed cheeks, sweat damp on her skin as her head rests against Natasha's thigh.  Natasha strokes that soft blond hair, brushing it back from Pepper's face, until both of them breathe easier, and then she leans forward to undo the ropes.  Pepper whimpers at the tug-and-slide as Natasha unfastens the rope running between her legs, but when it falls away she can take a deep breath.  Natasha swiftly undoes the rest of the ropes, with soothing touches as she does.</p><p>The last rope falls away and Pepper rests her head, briefly, against Natasha's shoulder, before she gets slowly to her feet.  Her mouth meets Natasha's, slow and sweet, before she turns away to reclaim her clothes, folded neatly as always on a shelf.</p><p>Their secret hangs between them as they go back to work.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written for Natasha Bingo 2020 for the prompt "bondage."</p></blockquote></div></div>
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